


One Night

by Vae



Category: Spooks | MI-5
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-16
Updated: 2008-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-07 07:10:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vae/pseuds/Vae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just one night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night

**Author's Note:**

> These characters are the property of the BBC. No profit is being made from their use in this fan fiction. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Thanks to [](http://lvs2read.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://lvs2read.livejournal.com/)**lvs2read** for the beta check. Any remaining errors are entirely my own responsibility for disagreeing with her.

It's always been between them, this thing no one names, but it takes a mission gone badly wrong to bring it bubbling to the surface. A target dead, a colleague dead, a task failed, a chicken madras and too much beer and Danny's got no memory of who kissed who first, but fuck, he's always wanted this. Not the drunk, that's not the thing, but Zoe in his arms, on his lap, all those masks she wears for defense completely gone. Yeah, he's wanted that. More than he'll ever tell her.

She's sweet, beyond the spice of curry and the wheat of beer, there's something under it, something purely Zoe he hadn't expected. He'd expected citrus sharp and fresh to match her sarcasm, but she's sweet. Sweet and open and yearning and nearly as desperate as he is to feel skin against skin, her shirt half open and pushed aside, her hair catching in their mouths, against his teeth, dragging against his lips as he follows the curve of her throat, nip and lick and suck as his hands lead the way, dark against shockingly pale skin, lit only by the flickering light of the TV screen. Tasting her, tasting the faint remnants of her skin cream, the salt tang of sweat undertoned with the metallic linger of spent terror.

His hands, her bra straps, her breasts, warm and heavy in his hands, her nipples puckering under his fingers, his breath, his mouth, the soft mewl she gives going straight to his cock and fuck, it's really happening. Really, right here, on the sofa, cushions sliding to the floor as she wriggles down, her eyes wide as she stares up at him for long moments while he looks down. "Zoe?" he breathes, asks, uncertain for the first time, and she laughs, low music, and nods, her own voice rough when she speaks.

"Yes," is all she says, all he needs. "Yes."

Two more buttons and her skirt pushed high around her hips, his hand following the line of her thigh to push under fabric, curve over her mound, hear that soft broken cry and feel the tilt and writhe as she pushes closer, wordless demand he's more than happy to fulfill, triumph and satisfaction. One finger, two, sliding under her knickers and oh, God, she's wet. So fucking hot and wet, for him, for his fingers to slide into her, his thumb pushing up to find... yeah, that's it. That's _it_ , watching and feeling and hearing her stiffen and shake, squeezing tight on his fingers and falling apart for him. For _him_ , because it's his name on her lips.

"Danny," she murmurs, twisting, pleading. Wanting. " _Danny._ "

"Yeah," he replies, with a grin, and kisses the moans from her lips while his fingers still work inside her, while she swears and cries and shudders and fights to drag the condom from his jeans pocket and get his flies open, while they both work to shove denim and cotton aside so she can roll the condom on, while he slides into her and for one glorious, torturous, eternal moment stays perfectly still, tense from the need to move. Until he can't wait, until she won't let him, until her legs wrap around him and her knickers are pushing against his cock but there's no way he's stopping to get them out of the way, one thumb hooking into them, the other on her clit, both hands holding her hips and nothing before them, between them, but this.

This one night.


End file.
